


The Contingency Plan

by obsessivechild



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Cops, Crime, Crime Fighting, Crime Solving, Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9202619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivechild/pseuds/obsessivechild
Summary: 1940's Frerard.Frank's the cop who went off the rails a few years ago after his wife was murdered by the main suspect that disappeared without a trace in the biggest case of his career. Now he's a shaky, coffee addict working for a small private detective agency in LA. When murders similar to the ones committed by the man that got away start to happen again, Frank takes on the case and is determined to solve it this time. However, his new assigned partner, Gerard, might cause a bit of a distraction...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Alanis for thinking up the idea for this story (she actually wrote the summary). I enjoyed writing this a lot. It definitely pushed me out of my comfort zone.  
> Also, this is kinda inspired by a video game called LA Noire and by another game called Heavy Rain.

"Not a good idea. Frank, you can't go- _Stop_! Don't let him through!"

The sirens were loud. Very loud. But not as loud as the sound of his heart thudding in his chest.

The officers on scene tried to hold him back; tried to stop him getting through; tried to stop him seeing her.

He saw her.

As soon as he saw her, he tried to pull his arms out of their grips. They held on. He turned to scream at them, "That's my _wife_!"

The crowd behind the barrier was attempting to watch the action take place. The whole area was full of people and cops.

He managed to free his arms. "This is _my_ case and that's _my_ wife!" He yelled in the cops faces. They backed off.

He turned and ran to her, falling down onto his knees. The shouts and noises behind him were drowned out and all he could hear was his heart. It was fast. He tried to feel for signs of her heart too.

She was silent.


	2. One

_30 Days_

His hands were shaking. 

He didn't know why he expected anything different really. His hands were always shaking. Every. Damn. Day.

As soon as he realised this, he noticed the stains on his shirt. His _clean_ shirt. Clean on _today_. A new record.

Again, not a surprise; just an inconvenience. It wasn't enough to spoil his mood. What little mood he had anyway. Which was still a lot for him at half eight on a Wednesday morning.

His hands were still shaking.

He grasped them together and placed them on his lap, trying to ignore the distraction. This just caused his leg to start shaking on its own accord.

Why was he like this?

He swore under his breath and gave up. He needed a smoke badly.

Thank God his stop was next. Fucking public transport. The bus braked to a slow stop, earning a mumble from one of the passengers.

Every morning, he had the same thought: this was the easiest part of his day. It wasn't necessarily a depressing thought; it was just an observation. Easy fucking peasy compared to the shit he has to deal with.

Nodding to the driver, he climbed off the bus and crossed the road to his destination. His office was only a five minute walk from the bus stop and when he reached it, he looked it up and down. He had always thought it was an ugly bitch of a building. All dark and depressing. It didn't exactly emit a welcoming atmosphere.

Of course, he didn't go in straight away. That would be boring. Instead, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a match. He was running low.

After leaning back against the building and puffing for a few minutes, he was aware someone had approached him. Being the recluse he was, he didn't acknowledge this person. That would make things too easy for them.

It only took a further minute for the stranger to speak. Although, as soon as they spoke, it was apparent that they weren't a stranger.

"That's not really the sort of welcome you want to give people is it, Detective?"

The detective slowly looked up from his cigarette, obviously unhappy to have been disturbed. "What's it to you?" He raised an eyebrow at the sergeant.

The other merely smiled at him, shaking his head slightly. "You know how easily I could get you fired?"

What else was new? Officer Reed was always throwing around empty threats. He wouldn't do shit.

"Nothing's stopping you." The detective held his arms out to the sides. "Go ahead." He enjoyed provoking little weasels who thought they were above him.

"Captain would never let you go." Reed shook his head. "For some reason, he's rather fond of you. No idea why."

If that was supposed to be an insult, it didn't do any damage. The detective shrugged it off, taking another drag. Couldn't he just enjoy a morning smoke in peace?

"You do realise you're late?" Reed was talking again and to be perfectly honest, it was a really fucking annoying sound. Didn't he realise he wasn't wanted?

"The thought never crossed my mind." The detective muttered, dropping the rest of his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it to put it out.

"Do you purposely make yourself late or are you just a bad time keeper?"

The detective was already losing interest in the conversation. "You know you're just a cop right? You have no authority in this building."

Reed was the sort of guy to think he deserved a promotion. He thought he had what it took to be a detective but the captain had other ideas.

The detective knew Reed wasn't fit to be promoted; he just had his head too far up his own ass. Didn't stop Reed from hanging around the agency though. He needed to fuck off and do his real job instead of attempting to steal other people's.

"Maybe you should get to work, Detective, instead of telling me useless facts." Reed held a threat in his voice. Didn't make him any less than harmless though.

The detective chuckled low in his throat. "Get back to your patrol, Officer."

Before Reed could say anything in return, the detective turned and went into the building, already dreading the work day.

It wasn't that he hated his job. He used to love it. He used to _thrive_ at work. 

That had been then though. This was now.

"Iero!" A shout stopped him in his tracks.

Sighing, he turned to see the captain making his way towards him. If he had a nickel for the amount of times he was called on by the captain, he'd be able to finally quit this shitty job.

"What time do you call this?" He stopped in front of him.

Detective Iero glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Eight forty seven."

"Don't sass me, Son." The captain sighed and nodded towards his office. Looked like another _chat_ about his _work_ _ethic_ was in order.

Detective Iero understood the message and followed him in there, waiting as the captain closed the door behind them.

"Do you know what time we start work around here, Frank?" Captain Morgan sat down at his desk and straight away lit up a cigar, puffing on it lazily.

Detective Frank Iero sat down in front of the desk and crossed one leg over the other, creating a box shape. "Eight o'clock on the dot."

"Eight o'clock on the dot." Captain Morgan repeated, adding a nod and another puff of his cigar. "We have a briefing every working day at eight o'clock on the dot. That was almost an hour ago, Frank. You missed briefing. You seem to miss briefing a lot lately."

Frank had heard this many times before. It wasn't the first time the captain had called him into his office first thing and it wouldn't be the last.

"I would say I try my best to be here on time but I'd be lying." Frank answered honestly. He'd known Captain Morgan for way too long to lie to him. Also, Morgan could see right through him.

"I thought as much." Was the captain's reply. He stared Frank down for a few silent moments before sighing.

"I like you, Iero. You're a smart detective. I know things haven't been easy since... Since the accident, but you can't let that bring you down forever. It's been three years."

Frank didn't like that at all. "Getting hit by a car is an accident, Captain. Falling off a cliff is an accident. Being murdered while walking home _isn't_ an accident."

Captain Morgan took another drag from his cigar. "As I said, I'm sorry, Frank."

Frank waved it off, slouching in his chair a little. He didn't like reminders. He knew how long it had been. Three years a week ago. To the fucking day.

Captain Morgan must have realised he'd overstepped his mark because he cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his seat. He usually wouldn't bring it up. "Let's just get through the rest of this morning. If you can't make it in on time, maybe a little time off is in order."

"I don't think that's necessary." Frank stood up, having decided he was done with this conversation. He had been forced to have _time_ _off_ three years ago. All that had done was let the anger boil and spread until he felt nothing but motherfucking _disdain_ for this job and all the fuckers he worked with.

Some would say that he was blaming others for what had happened but that wasn't true. Frank only blamed himself. It was his fucking fault that the guy was still out there. It was his fucking fault that Alice had... Alice had... been cut open and left on the side of the road like nothing more than a dead animal. Like a slab of meat. It was all Frank's fault.

"If you're sure." Morgan seemed doubtful, standing up himself, "I don't want you working yourself into a state."

Frank made a noise that vaguely resembled a chuckle before replying, "I'll be fine. Captain." He left the office.

Always the same fucking thing over and over again. He was sick and tired of everyone trying to sympathise and say that they _understood_ and _cared_. It was all bullshit. No one understood and no one cared.

"Morning, Iero. How come you missed briefing again?" A fellow detective patted him on the back as they greeted each other down the corridor.

All Frank wanted was to go and hide in his office and escape people. Getting there unscathed was never an easy task.

He nodded in respect at Detective Toro. "Missed the bus."

Sympathy appeared in Toro's eyes just like it appeared in everyone else's when they spoke to him. "That's a shame. Why don't you get a new car? Or at least use a patrol one. I'm sure the captain won't mind."

Frank just shook his head. The guy didn't have a clue, did he? "I'll be fine as I am, thanks." He started walking again, hoping to God the guy wasn't going to follow him.

He did of course.

"Hey, hang on!" He jogged a little to catch up with Iero. "I have a case for you to take today."

Frank stopped walking and held his hand out, not bothering to look at the guy anymore.

Toro frowned but handed him the file. "It looks pretty interesting."

Opening the file, Frank read the first word and shut it again. He finally looked at Toro again, shoving the file against his chest. "I don't take arson cases."

"But-"

"I don't take arson cases." Frank's voice stiffened. "What do I look like: the fucking fire brigade?"

Toro just clutched at the file and stared at him, not sure what to say anymore. That was an improvement.

Frank continued down the hall, leaving the guy in the middle of it. He knew he had the reputation of the miserable detective that didn't like anyone. He kind of liked that.

He spent most of his time in his office, ignoring cases that came his way. He saw it as a sort of strike. The captain wasn't allowing him to take any cases in homicide anymore but he wasn't going to take any others. He didn't care about fires and drugs. He was good with murders.

Although, the captain saw it differently. Ever since he had returned to work, Morgan explained that he wanted Frank to have some time away from that area, given the circumstances. It was complete bullshit. He could take any case and solve it easily. He was Detective Frank fucking Iero.

There was a large commotion across from his office. He made it to his door, questioning whether or not to go and see what all the fuss was about. By the look of it, there was a fresh new case brewed up this morning. It was likely that a body had been found.

That detective curiosity got the better of him and he went over to listen. Morgan had just arrived and was directing everyone.

"-If this is what we think it is, we need our best people. Fellows, can you-" He cut himself off, his eyes landing on Frank. He was shaking his head before anything was happening. "Go to your office, Iero. You don't need to be here."

That wasn't a good sign. Why were they treating an average murder with such stress? He wasn't usually told to fuck off then and there.

"No, Sir, I'm here to offer help. Admit it, I was your best detective in homocide."

Everyone else seemed to go quiet and just watched the exchange before them.

"That was then. This is now. Go to your office." He seemed more sad than angry and that confused Frank. Why would he be sad?

"No, Sir." Frank gritted his teeth, repeating his words, "I'm here to offer help."

There was a murmur around them and Frank managed to catch someone say, "-he can't do this case."

"Why the fuck not?" He turned to glare at the guy. "What gives you the right to do this case and not me?"

It went silent again.

"Frank." Morgan sighed, "I'm not allowing you to take this case. I know you're an honest detective but there is no way in Hell I am giving you this case."

That only meant one thing. Frank could feel his world fall all over again. There was only one explanation as to why everyone was acting so sketchy. "It's him, isn't it?"

"Frank-"

"Isn't it!"

Everyone watched the captain. He was very reluctant but eventually, he nodded slightly and said, "You're not allowed to take this case."

Frank _was_ fucking taking this case. He had spent the last three years going over the evidence and the files and just _hoping_ for a break. This was it. The guy was calling to him.

"I have to, Sir. Don't you remember the letters he wrote to me? He left messages for me around the bodies. I have to take it."

"Frank-"

"Sir, remember that he said he only wanted to be caught by me. I need to do this. I need to fix everything. Don't you remember-"

"Don't you remember him slicing your wife up?!" Morgan suddenly burst, cutting him off.

The silence that followed was very uncomfortable. The captain looked sorry as soon as he had said it. Everyone else was avoiding eye contact.

Frank ignored the pain that coursed through him. He took a deep breath and said quietly, "I am taking this case, Sir, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

Morgan was giving up, that much was clear. He swore and then replied loudly, "Fine! If this is what you want then fine! But I'm assigning you a partner. No arguments there."

A partner, whatever. Frank didn't care. Just the thought that he could rectify everything was what was keeping him going. "Whatever you want, Sir. Can I have the address?"

A piece of paper with a scribble of writing was shoved in his hand and before Morgan could say anything else, Frank was practically running out of the precinct, grabbing the keys for a patrol car. This was really happening.

The crime scene was in a big park round the corner. It was close and that excited Frank. He hadn't felt the rush of a case in so long. Although, the fact that this was the same guy made his blood boil.

He parked next to the other patrol cars that were blocking off the entrance and walked down to the taped off area. There were civilians trying to catch a glimpse but were being held back by the officers on scene.

"Detective Frank Iero." He flashed his badge and a cop let him through.

The adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He felt alive again. Fuck Morgan for not letting him take a proper case before now.

"Detective?" An officer caught his attention.

"Yes." Frank continued to walk, allowing the guy to walk beside him.

"That was fast." The officer was saying, "A man walking his dog found her half an hour ago and called it in. It's pretty obvious from the way she's been uh... It's obvious that it's the Santa Monica Slicer. Kinda weird though. I only got a quick glimpse. But, yeah, weird."

Frank didn't say anything. He had caught sight of more tape and the body. "Thank you, Officer." He mumbled, walking faster to get there.

The cop seemed to slow down and stop, watching him for a moment before going back down the path. Good riddance.

Frank went under the tape and stopped. It was him. It was definitely him. He was back with his stupid mind games and his gory murders.

Anger spread throughout Frank's body as he stared at the woman who had been sliced in approximately seventeen places, going from how he used to slice his victims. She was blonde like the others. Like all the others apart from. Alice.

Frank didn't even need to look to know she had tape across her mouth and her underwear was gone. Although, something was out of the ordinary.

He slowly walked forward until he saw it.

Her guts and organs were half out her body which was a normal occurrence but what was different made Frank swallow uncomfortably. Next to where her kidney rested on the cobble path beside her, there were two words seemingly written from her blood.

Under normal circumstances, Frank would have called it cliche and petty. However, this wasn't normal. This was not like the other times a message had been left. They had been subtle and hard to distinguish. This was loud and plain and really fucking obvious.

Frank stared down at those words and knew that it was his mission to kill this fucker.

" _hello_ _frank_ "


	3. Two

"Holy fuck. That is... Fucked up."

Frank looked up to see a guy stood next to him, blocking the sun and staring down at the body with a slightly disgusted look.

"Can I help you?" Frank stood up, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to look it over himself. He assumed it was just some guy from the agency here to take photos.

The guy finally looked at him and attempted to smile. "Oh uh yeah. You're Detective Iero, right?"

"Yes." Frank narrowed his eyes at the guy. The disruption was highly irritating and unnecessary. It was clear that Frank had been working and didn't need people getting in the way.

The guy held out a hand. "I'm Detective Way; I'm your assigned partner on this case."

Oh. Right. Frank stared at him for a moment before shaking his outstretched hand. He was tempted to make a big deal out of this but there was no point. The best thing to do was to just get on with the work and pretend this guy didn't exist. He probably didn't even know what he was doing anyway.

"I've only been a detective a week." Way admitted, dropping his hand again and confirming Frank's suspicions. "This is my first case."

What the fuck. Frank stared at him again.

Why the hell had this guy been given a homicide case as his first case? And also, why the fucking hell had he been assigned to _this_ particular case of all cases?

"Captain must like you." He grumbled, only feeling a little angry about the whole thing. Only a _little_.

The guy chuckled a little. "I don't know about that. I've heard a lot about you though."

Frank's guard was immediately up. "I'd rather not talk right now. I have take notes." He knelt back down on the cobbles next to the body.

Way looked guilty but nodded anyway. "Oh, yeah, of course. Uh me too." He glanced around, a little lost, before moving round the body to kneel down on the other side.

Frank's eyes shifted up at him and then back down, swearing in the back of his mind. He didn't need this shit.

The guy was silent for a minute. A whole fucking minute. "Holy shit! Does that say _'hello_ _frank'_?"

This was old news. The guy was late by seven minutes.

"Yes."

"Is it normal for a killer to leave shit like that? I mean, I've heard of notes made of letters cut out from newspapers but this is something else." Way was staring at the dried blood letters. "Who's Frank?"

He talked too much. Frank already hated him.

He looked up. "I'm Frank."

Way looked back up at him in surprise. "Oh. Um." He was finally speechless.

"It's fine. This is normal." Frank assured him, going back to his notebook. He was wasting precious time just talking to this guy.

It was silent; all that was heard was the birds in the park and the far off talking of the cops and civilians down by the entrance to the park. It would have been peaceful if the situation was different.

Frank wrote down all the usual, damning evidence and also added the bloody note. It didn't even send a shiver down his spine. Not anymore.

"So." The other detective spoke quietly and Frank had to hold back the urge to sigh. "Is it okay if I call you Frank?"

"No." Frank's tone was harsh. He was really beginning to lose his nerve. "Iero will be fine."

Silence again. Until, "You can call me Gerard if you like."

 _Gerard_ _Way_. It was an interesting name, Frank could give him that. He hadn't met a Gerard in a long time.

"Right." He said to shut him up, closing his notebook and standing up again. He was hoping the photographer _would_ show up soon just to distract the annoying fuck.

He looked down at the body. There was nothing else out of the ordinary. The next thing was to find her handbag. The Slicer usually left it hanging around somewhere.

"So what now then?" Gerard asked, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

Frank seemed to finally notice his suit then and how well made it was. It was a simple grey pinstriped suit but it somehow seemed a lot much more posh than anything Frank owned. Was it designer?

That would make a lot of sense. The guy had probably _bought_ his way into the agency and onto the case. But if he could do it, that meant that anyone could. What if _he_ was the killer and was posing as a detective; trying to get on Frank's good side before he killed him too?!

"You alright?" Gerard clicked his fingers, trying to get Frank's attention again.

"Uh yeah." Frank turned to walk slowly around the taped off area to spot any clues on the path and grass.

Gerard followed him. "I asked what was next. Back to the office?"

Frank stopped and stood up straight, turning to look at the guy. "Are you stupid? We've only looked at the body. We have to examine the _entire_ crime scene."

Gerard blinked at him. "You have a mighty stick up your ass. You know that?"

For the love of God.

Frank turned and started walking again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means-" Gerard moved to walk next to him, "That you're acting like an ass. I haven't done anything wrong and you're treating me like shit you've stepped in."

Frank _wished_ he was just some shit he had stepped in. "Well, fucking forgive me for not being chipper about a murder."

Gerard shut up again. Frank felt smug.

He found the handbag by the tree the tape went around. He leant down and opened it. It was definitely a woman's handbag alright. Nothing had been tampered with. Frank found her purse and her address book. They now had a name and an address. He wrote it in his notebook.

"I'm not happy this woman was murdered if that's what you mean."

The noises he was making with his mouth was pissing Frank off. He stood up again and looked at him. "I don't give a shit. All I care about is solving this case and putting that fucker where he belongs." He closed his notebook loudly and continued walking along the tape.

Neither of them spoke for the remaining time there. The photographer turned up ten minutes later and by then, Frank had all the notes he needed and had checked every square foot of the crime scene. Nothing big had been detected; just that her missing heel was found by a bush which suggested that she had been dragged to the spot instead of killed there. Another common trait this killer had.

Gerard had just stood and watched as Frank worked, obviously at a loss of what to do himself. Frank wanted to know why in the name of Hell this kid been put with him. He had no experience, no apparent knowledge and no fucking filter on his mouth.

The first thing Frank did when he got back to the precinct was march into Captain Morgan's office and bang a fist on his desk. "Do you think this is a fucking _joke_?"

Morgan looked up from his coffee. "Met Detective Way, have you?"

"Yes, I have. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Frank attempted to calm himself down. There was no time to rant about a shitty mistake on the captain's part. And yet here he was, doing just that.

"Way is a bright kid. This case is exactly the experience he needs."

"He should already _have_ experience to be on this case." Frank slumped down into the seat in front of the desk, feeling deflated all of a sudden. The morning had passed like a whirlwind and it was already nearing twelve. His eleven o'clock coffee was way overdue. "I don't understand why I don't have someone a lot more advanced working with me."

Morgan's lips twitched. "I thought you preferred to work alone."

"I do!" Frank groaned, rubbing his eyes, "I'm just _trying_ to make this easier for us all. There's no point in demanding to work alone."

"And yet, you're demanding a new partner?"

Frank watched as Morgan placed a new cigar in his mouth and lit it, puffing on it thoughtfully as he waited for Frank's reply.

"I'm not demanding." Frank's voice had lost some of its edge. "I just want to know what the whole deal is. There must be a reason you assigned him to me. You know how big this case is."

"I do." The captain nodded, smoke drifting up.

"So, what's the big deal?" Frank huffed, feeling more agitated than he had for a long time.

"I know this is tough case and a big one. Under normal circumstances, I would have my best detectives on the case."

"So, why do you only have one?" Frank crossed his arms, not even caring if it wrinkled his suit. It wasn't like any of his clothes were smart anymore.

"I'm giving the boy a chance. He _is_ smart, believe it or not. I see a lot of potential in him. I even see a little of you in him from back in the day."

Frank snorted, not believing any of that shit. All he believed was that the guy was a pain in the ass and was sure to hold the investigation back. Not if Frank had anything to do with it.

"No chance of a new partner then?"

Morgan chuckled and took another drag. "You would just moan about him too. Get on with your work, Detective."

There was no use in arguing. Frank would just have to suck it up and get on with it. "Could I have all the old files back?"

They had been confiscated from him a year ago, after he had almost worked himself into a mad frenzy. He had gone over all the files every day and had gotten to the point where he had convinced himself that all the women in Santa Monica would never be safe again. That obviously hadn't been true because after finding Alice's body, the murders had stopped. At least, by him anyway.

Since her death, Frank's sleeping pattern was almost non-existent. He tried to avoid the time when he was lying in bed before he was asleep; when his thoughts started shouting at him about how she should still be lying next to him and how he had failed. He drank a lot of coffee and smoked a lot of cigarettes. He had even gotten to the point where he saw no reason for anything anymore. He considered suicide more times than once and if he was being honest, he had no idea why he hadn't gone through with it. He spent a lot of nights in bars.

After the case files had been taken away from him, he fell into a depression. It was late and should have arrived after Alice's death but it had been pushed back by the urge to solve the case and catch the culprit. Since he no longer had any way to do that, he saw no point in anything. The drive to avenge her was dampened slightly. That didn't stop him from doing a little _'investigation'_ outside of work.

He forced people to tell him information and looked around places without warrants. It was all illegal and by the time word got to the captain, he was suspended. As if that would have stopped him.

It had only been a week since he had returned to work and it was obvious that everyone was walking on eggshells around him. Ever since Morgan's assistant had caught him yelling at himself in his office, word had spread about how he was losing his mind. Maybe he was.

He couldn't be crazy though. He had always known the Slicer would be back. Why the wait? Why the three years break? Something was different this time. Frank could tell. He intended to go over all the files and record a commentary just to talk through the evidence and spot any differences between this murder and the others.

Morgan reluctantly allowed him to have the documents back and who could blame him after last time? Frank had drove himself to the point where he was almost ripping the files apart and destroying evidence. Morgan had been relieved when the case had been taken off of Frank. Frank had slowly begun to lose his mind, it was true.

This was different though. This was waking him up again. He felt alive for the first time since he had seen his wife's dead eyes staring up at the sky. He needed to stay sober and finish this case. He needed to do this for her.


End file.
